Ye Bards in all your thousand dens, Great souls with fewer pence than pens, Sublime adorers of Apollo, With folios full, and purses hollow; Whose very souls with rapture glisten,...
Let this rough fragment lend its mossy seat; Let Contemplation hail this lone retreat: Come, meek-eyed goddess, through the midnight gloom, Born of the silent awe which robes the tomb!...
She sat in beauty, like some form of nymph Or na'ad, on the mossy, purpled bank Of her wild woodland stream, that at her feet Linger'd, and play'd, and dimpled, as in love....
Sweet Insect! that on two small wings doth fly, And, flying, carry on those wings yourself; Methinks I see you, looking from your eye, As tho' you thought the world a wicked elf....
I knew a being once, his peaked head With a few lank and greasy hairs was spread; His visage blue, in length was like your own Seen in the convex of a table-spoon. His mouth, or rather gash athwart his face,...
Lady! who didst--with angel-look and smile, And the sweet lustre of those dear, dark eyes, Gracefully bend before the font of Christ, In humble adoration, faith, and prayer!...
Come, gentle sleep! thou soft restorer, come, And close these wearied eyes, by grief oppress'd; For one short hour, be this thy peaceful home, And bid the sighs that rend my bosom rest. ...
When first the infant bird attempts to fly, And cautious spreads its pinions to the sky, Each happy breeze the timid trav'ller cheers, Assists its efforts, and allays its fears;...
Genius of England! wherefore to the earth Is thy plumed helm, thy peerless sceptre cast? Thy courts of late with minstrelsy and mirth Rang jubilant, and dazzling pageants past;...
Sons of Renown! ye heirs of matchless fame, Whose Sires in Glory's path victorious fell; Adding new honors to the British name, That future ages shall with transport tell. ...
Ill-fated hour! oft as thy annual reign Leads on th' autumnal tide, my pinion'd joys Fade with the glories of the fading year; "Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train,"...
Ill-Fated hour! oft as thy annual reign Leads on th'autumnal tide, my pinion'd joys Fade with the glories of the fading year; "Remembrance 'wakes with all her busy train,"...
Who stops the Minister of State, When hurrying to the Lords' debate? Who, spite of gravity beguiles, The solemn Bishop of his smiles? See from the window, "burly big," The Judge pops out his awful wig,...
Mute, memory stands, at valor's awful shrine, In tears Britannia mourns her hero dead; A world's regret, brave Abercrombie's thine. For nature sorrow'd as thy spirit fled! ...
Beautiful Boy--thy heavenward thoughts Are pictured in thine eyes, Thou hast no taint of mortal birth, Thy communing is not of earth, Thy holy musings rise: Like incense kindled from on high,...
Once more we venture here, to prove our worth, And ask indulgence kind, to tempt us forth: Seek not perfection from our essays green, That, in man's noblest works, has never been,...
It is a mournful pleasure to remember the exquisite taste and delight she evinced in the arrangement of a Bouquet; and how often she wished that, hereafter, she might appear to me as a beautiful flower!
While o'er this pageant of sublunar things Oblivion spreads her unrelenting wings, And sweeps adown her dark unebbing tide Man, and his mightiest monuments of pride-- Alone, aloft, immutable, sublime,...